Revelation
by Courtness
Summary: A different outlook on Liquid Snake's death scene. (Slight yaoi; LiquidxSolid)
1. Prayer for the Dying

**Revelation**

**

A/N: Hmm. This was written for a few reasons. Mainly out of my need to write some Liquid/Solid that was squishy, my love for angst, and because first person Snake is just too fun to write for its own good. Even though both he and Liquid are rather out of character here, I had to write this when I found a few really sad pictures while looking for fanart. So despite the fact that it isn't very in character, I did it for myself. Not sure whether I like the results or not… I'm also considering doing a second chapter from Liquid's point of view, but I'm not sure yet. You can tell me whether or not you think I should if you review. 

The shounen ai is very light and only slightly implied, just as a warning. 

**

**1:** Prayer for the Dying

**

I never _really_ hated him. 

Like I had told Naomi about Gray Fox – no, about Frank – we were just people fighting on opposites in my mind, an enemy not because of personal reasons, but just because that's how it turned out. He may have hated _me_, but I didn't hate him. I was more interested in this person that was supposedly my brother, my twin, the story lying behind that. And he's cleared all of that up for me. 

How could I hate him? I was hardly aware of his existence until recently. I wasn't like him, loathing me from when he was a kid, building up his hatred for me until he finally got to meet me. I wonder what he wanted to do when he finally saw me face to face. I wonder what he thought. 

I wonder if I was all I was chalked up to be. 

I'll give him something, though; he was _damn_ persistant. I had to kill him, what, five times? I've lost count. He has more lives than a fucking cat.

Somehow, though, it felt like he didn't entirely hate me. That in some way, his envy had turned into something more like… admiration, strangely enough. The only reason I say this is what he did when he was finally taking his last breaths. 

Hunched on the ground, clutching at his middle as he felt the FoxDie virus attack him, he was right in front of me, at my feet – you wouldn't want to know _how_ many people have died at my feet in just the same way. And yet somehow this affected me the most. 

What he did, he looked up at me and reached for me, tried to get a hold on me; if you had been a spectator, like Otacon was, it probably looked like he was doing it because he wanted to harm me, drag me down with him, so to speak, but I saw the desperate, almost longing look in his eyes. 

I saw that they were brimming with tears, a glistening in his eyes that was barely noticeable; in fact, the only reason that I even saw was because I always examine myself in the mirror when I cry because I want to remember how it looks. How it feels. After all, it's not a common occurrence. 

Like I told Otacon, I didn't need her handkerchief. No more tears to shed. 

Then he fell down, collapsed into the snow, and a bit of the white powder that was tossed up from his cold skin impacting with the ground sprinkled onto my shoe. I stared down at it apathetically for a moment. The small sound of Otacon shifting uncomfortably, standing a few feet away, snapped me back into attention, and I glanced up at him. I gave him a look – it was probably cold and numb, but frankly, I don't remember how any display of emotion, when it comes to me, looks anymore – and then said detachedly, "Go on ahead. I'll catch up with you in a second."

He gave me this sympathetic look and I wanted to slap him in the face. He thought I was sad for Meryl, that I needed a few seconds to grieve over her. That wasn't it at all. Everyone seemed to think I was in love with her, but like I had said, after so much war, so much death, it's hard to trust _anyone_. Even a green little rookie with an obsession for legendary heroes and becoming a soldier – but in the end she couldn't handle it. She got too close to me, found some reason to fall in _love_ with me, though I can hardly understand why she would – I guess it's that hero worship again – and they used it against her, thinking it would hurt me. And maybe it did, a little, to know that I was the reason she was killed, and maybe that's why I felt bad, because it may have turned out differently, she may have been given a real chance at life had I not screwed up, but being the pessimist I am, they probably would have killed her anyways. If anything, I feel bad for Roy. 

Regardless, after giving me that goddamn _look_, he walked off, making large crunching noises in the snow with his tennis shoes; it made me want to cringe. I had just spent eighteen hours masked in stealth, and such a loud action raised my nerves a little. Sometimes it takes a while to get used to normal life again. 

No, the reason I wanted some time to myself was to try and get some closure with my brother. 

Scrathing at the back of my neck for a moment, I heaved out a sigh and seated myself next to him in the snow. After examining his seemingly lifeless form for a moment, I grabbed both of his bare shoulders carefully, being overly cautious so that I didn't bruise his soft skin – accidentally bruising a corpse seemed wrong somehow; they had already lost their life, why cause them more pain in death? – and pulled him into my lap, sort of, his shoulder blades gently digging into my crossed legs. It wasn't uncomfortable, though. Felt kind of nice, almost.

I ran a gloved finger down his chest, looking at all the cuts and burns I had given him in our fights earlier. I kind of wished that he could have had a proper burial, so those morticians or whatever could clean it all up, but that wasn't going to happen. Like he had told me, we were the country's dirty little secret. They'd probably chop his body up into so many pieces each one would be as small as a fucking grain of sand. 

I reached across his chest then to grab his left arm and pull it over so that I could see his tattoo, examining it for a moment before letting go and allowing the limb to fall back into place. I didn't really know why I was even doing all of this, why I for some reason felt I had to grieve over him when I had been able to walk away from all the other people that had died by my hand, but maybe it was because he was the one person I could actually relate to. We were practically the same person; hell, he had had it even worse than me. I should feel lucky that I've had it so good up until now. Sure, I may have to deal with the guilt of being a murderer, but at least I didn't have to grow up knowing that there was someone out there that was ten times better than me, that there was always someone I was going to be compared to, and that no matter what, I would never be able to win over them. 

He had gotten so close a few times, too. That was probably the most painful part for him. If things had gone just a little differently, the tables could have been turned at this point. Though for some reason, I don't think he would have held me in his arms. 

I then lifted my hand to his hair, running my fingers through it. Seeing strands of it kept getting caught on my glove, I grumbled and reached my hand up to my mouth, pulling the covering off with my teeth; sure, my bare skin being exposed did prove to be a little cold, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. I mean, Liquid had no _shirt_ on. 

Oh wait. He was dead, so it didn't really matter for him. Right. That's why I was doing this whole make-myself-feel-better-by-mourning-his-death thing. Gotcha'.

With that done, I returned my hand to his blonde hair and tried again, my fingers running smoothly through it this time. He actually had pretty soft hair; nice, too. It was obvious he had taken good care of it – not like me. There were no knots that my fingers got caught in, and I got the feeling he took pretty good care of himself when he was alive. Liked to look presentable. Narcissistic, maybe, but I doubt that. He was too insecure for that sort of thing, even though he tried to act all high and mighty.

And I'm the reason he had such an inferiority complex. I'm the reason he grew up knowing he was dirt. I kind of want to apologize, but I know that would be silly. People can't hear you when they're dead. I lost my chance a long time ago; I was too busy trying to _kill_ him. 

It was just a part of the job. No personal matters involved. Not like him. His blood probably boiled every time he saw me, but I was cool and apathetic, as usual. Sometimes I have to wonder if anything will ever really get a hold on me, jerk me into some state of feeling. I know I should be hurting, I should be sad; he was my _brother_, a blood relation, and I killed him, the same as my father. But nothing hurts. There's no pain. 

No more tears to shed, no more tears to shed. 

I then moved my hand from his hair to his chest, rubbing some of the blood and dirt off carefully. Absentmindedly I pulled him a little closer, into something almost like a hug. It was an awkward one, though, and I probably looked pretty stupid, especially since my face was most likely clean of any emotion. It's sad when you get so good at keeping your walls up that you forget how to take them down, how to let go. How to relax and… live. 

"You're nobler than I thought."

I must have been hearing things. Hallucinating. It was those damn nanomachines or something else that Naomi had put in my shot. Or maybe it was FoxDie, coming to claim me in the same way. It makes sense that I'd fall soon after him. Either way, it can't be. He couldn't have said anything because he's dead. He's dead. I close my eyes and shake my head, trying to clear it and hoping I'm not going insane. I don't really mind the dying part; that I can live with. Or… die with. Heh. 

I feel cold, hard fingers placed against my cheek, and I force my eyes to open. He's awake, alive, and he has a rueful smile on his face. 

I guess I must have miscalculated. He wasn't dead yet. He really did have more lives than a cat. Then again, it wasn't like I had checked his pulse. I just sort of assumed he was dead. I don't know what my reasoning for _that_ is, since I've never really held a dead person in my arms like this.

Usually… I just walk away. 

He coughs roughly and some blood is expelled from his mouth, clinging to his cheek. I'm reminded faintly of Sniper Wolf and I quickly wipe the sticky substance away, dragging it onto the white snow so he can be untainted as he truly dies. 

I realize I have to say something. I have to explain myself. I have to explain why I have my enemy in my grasp, why I had been sitting there and stroking his hair, cleaning his skin. He wants to know. And how can I deny him that? These are his final moments, and I doubt I'm the person he wanted to spend them with. I can at least give him what he wants, now that we are no longer destined to fight one another. 

I'm sounding like Frank. 

Taking a deep breath, I search for something to say. "…I figured I could tie up loose ends, now that I had the chance. I didn't expect you to talk back, though." I chuckle a little. Just to lighten the mood. It's kind of cold, but I'm horrible with this sentimental stuff, and I don't want to buckle down. 

"And I thought I was going to be left here to die on my own…" he said, grimacing slightly. I could tell it hurt for him to talk, but he wouldn't allow his words to be chopped up from the pain that was most likely attacking him, ripping him apart from the inside. He hadn't reacted as violently to the virus – it hadn't really looked as much like a heart attack. It seemed more long-term of an assault, rather than immediate. Hey, at least he was given a chance to say goodbye to the world. Though I'm not quite sure he wanted to. 

"You probably would have been better off that way, but I figure that this might make me feel a little better about myself later. I can say I bonded with my older brother right before he died. I won't even have to mention the fact that we were hell-bent on killing each other." I gave him a sad smile. I was a bit surprised he wasn't still yelling bloody murder at me, but for one, I don't think he had the sort of energy, and for two, people tend to get very docile when they know their end is nigh. 

His blue eyes seem a little glazed over, but I think his mind is still clear. I hope. This talk with him is meaning quite a lot to me, for whatever reason. Maybe because the only other family member I ever knew I killed as well. At least I was given a chance to work things out, if only a little bit, this time. "You can act like we were the best of friends…"

"I'm no better than you." It just came out, fast and sudden, and I was surprised at myself afterwards for saying it. It seemed to come out of nowhere, but now that I look back on it, I think I had wanted to say that the entire time. Just get it out in the open, because really, it was true.

He blinked up at me, shaking his head. "Don't say that just to make me feel better. You are better. Anyone would say so. Look at who's the one that's dying in the end." 

I growled in protest. "Genes don't matter! The fact that I had the dominant genes and you had the recessive ones doesn't make any difference, Liquid. I may have been given all the 'good' genes, but what did I do with them? Nothing. I killed people." 

"…the ultimate soldier…" 

"No one wants to make friends with the ultimate soldier. They're scared of him, they avoid him, they're intimidated by him."

"All fear the ultimate soldier."

"Is that what you wanted?!" I shook him a little, and mentally, I was sort of scared about how emotional I was getting. "For everyone to be scared of you? For people to think you're inhuman?" I closed my eyes and sighed. "No. No." 

He was quiet for a moment, and I was glad I had made him think. "If… the tables were turned now, I wouldn't have done what you're doing…"

"I'm only doing it to soothe my own soul. It's selfish, really. That I'm the last person you see when you die. It's just…" I opened my eyes and looked off into the distance. Otacon was probably wondering what was taking me so long. Oh well. He'd have to wait. 

"I envy you, Snake… You didn't need genes to be a better person. Even if you were the… inferior one, you still would have beaten me." He closed his eyes, and I shook him a little to make sure I didn't lose him. I couldn't. Not until we had really worked this out. 

"You're the most persistant bastard I've ever known, Liquid. And it wasn't me that killed you. That's FoxDie's doing." If only the vaccination was nearby, if only… 

"…so close…" He opened his eyes again and traced his fingers down my cheek, and it was only then that I remembered he had even had them there. Uncharacteristically, I blushed. 

He smiled.

"I never thought I'd see the great Solid Snake blush."

"Don't say that. I'm not great. I'm no legend. No one seems to understand that. What kind of legend kills people without caring?" 

He paused, admiring me as he thought over this. He seemed so honest, now, and I wondered what my state of mind would be during my own last moments. If I was even allowed them. I shouldn't be. "But you're here, aren't you?" he asked softly.

"That's just because—"

"Don't lie."

I blink, and stare at him for a moment. His hand falls back down weakly to his side, and I feel a small lurch in my chest. He's so weak now, and suddenly… the fact that he's _dying_ in _my_ arms hits me like a ton of bricks. It was like it didn't process before, and suddenly, my emotions are kicked back into gear again. My heart rate increases, but I try to look the same. 

He notices, though, and nods. "I feel honored. Snake shows his soft side for me…?" 

I grit my teeth because obviously, I don't want to admit it. I hardly even know the person and yet somehow, here I am, feeling some sort of weird bond for him. I guess it's because he's the only person I can really relate to. He's been through what I've been through, and worse. He's my _brother_. I know that didn't stop me before, but somehow, Liquid seems more real. 

I know. It doesn't make sense to me, either. 

"Maybe…" His eyes were getting more clouded over, and his breathing was becoming more erratic, to the point that it became apparent he wouldn't be able to speak soon, the pain too crippling to form words. "…maybe neither of us is as great or as bad as everyone's told us." 

I turn my head towards the grey sky and smile sadly. "Maybe we should stop listening to what everyone tells us we are." I look back down at him and give him a serious look. "If anything, we're equal, okay?" Comfortingly, I brush my knuckles against his cheek. "Don't worry about genes. Or fate. Or any of that." 

He shook his head. "It didn't get me very far… did it…?" He coughs. Choking on his own blood. 

My eyes narrow, half-lidded and expression sober with something like pity for the man. Only now does he realize how he could have spent his life, that he could have ignored the hissing remarks and whatever else everyone told him, and truly lived. Not that I've done any better. But I'm not busy dying, am I? Once again, though, I wouldn't really mind. Maybe he doesn't, either. Maybe he wants it. It's too much to ask him about in the short amount of time he has left, and I'd rather he gets to say everything he needs to. 

"If we're equal, then… Snake…" He looks up at me and there's a pleading look in his eyes, an expression I hadn't imagined him capable of. "…live to be better than I ever was. And if they ever ask about your brother…" He closed his eyes, and I winced. Once they close their eyes, like that, slowly and acceptingly, you know it's near. "…tell them the truth." 

My hands were shaking as I slowly pulled him more genuinely into my arms, and I felt him make a weak attempt to return the hug. This is probably the sappiest I've ever gotten. But hey, he deserves it after being forced to hate me his entire life. 

"One more thing…" he chokes, and I can practically feel the life seeping out of him. "Call… me…" 

There it comes, it's attacking his lungs and he can't breath. Can't talk. 

But… I know what he wants. I give him a tight squeeze and finish the hug and then lay him on his back in the snow, kneeling next to him as I lay a hand gently on his chest. "Sleep well… brother." It was just a whisper, but I see him relax as I say it and I know he's heard it. 

He gives a final nod, and I also know that he wants me to finish it, much like I did with Wolf. I don't really know how I'm able to understand him. Maybe it's that supposed psychic bond that twins are supposed to have.

I get shakily to my feet and grab my SOCOM out of its holster, holding it down towards his heart. I turn my head away, looking off into the distance, as I press down on the trigger and feel the bullet leave the barrel and find a new home in his chest. My hand clenches around the handle of the weapon as I return it to its place and then stare down at his finally dead form. 

I know I should walk away now, go find Otacon and the snowmobile, but I sort of stand there and stare at him for a moment. I kneel down next to him one more time, and dig my bare fingers into his chest to remove the bullet, placing it in my pocket. I also take his dog tags and put them around my neck. I fish for a bandage and wrap the wound tightly so that he doesn't bleed all over the place. It's all I can do.

Once that is done, I get to my feet again and stare down at my hands, which are now covered in his blood. My lips turn up in a sarcastic smile. One more person that's died thanks to me. One more reason why these hands won't cleanse themselves. And I have to wonder why my smiles are never truly happy? 

As I pace away, through the snowy tundra, I feel my shoulders try to shake with sobs lost somewhere in my chest. 

But I don't cry.

No more tears to shed. No more tears to shed. 


	2. Requiem for the Living

**Revelation**

A/N: I can't believe it. I actually did the second part for this. I thought I would abandon it for forever and ever just like all of my other fics ever! But no, I actually pulled through this time. can you belive it? It was strange; I just got in the mood to write it and then I sat down and did it. In one sitting. Six pages of Liquid ranting and angsting and freaking out in one sitting. You know I'm gonna have some problems after this. HAHAHA, looney bin for me! 

I'm okay, really. All right, what I'd like to point out is that... the title of this fic, Revelation, I actually came up with before I knew that the tattoo on Liquid's arm read "Temptation Revelation". I was actually rather surprised when I found out, and was glad that it fit in so well. XD; Also, I do realize that all of the dialogue is the same, but what do you expect? It's the same scene, just from a different perspective. oo; Oh, and the two chapters titles? One is from a song by Seal, and the other is the name of a song from the anime Hellsing. LOOK HOW VERY ORIGINAL I AM. Oh well. They fit nicely.

Last warnings: Shounen-ai and heavy angst. Possible sappyness. Oh, and thanks to Erin for beta-ing. (If there are any typos, I kill you. ...just kidding, dear. 3)

**2: **Requiem for the Living

I never really hated _him_. 

It was more that I hated who he was, and what he made me. His existence, the fact that he even lived and breathed, all of that was my own death sentence. Right here, right now... I'm not really dying. No, not really, since I've been dead to the world since the day I was born. Does it sound hackneyed? Perhaps it does, perhaps I sound overdramatic. But it is true. When people looked at me, they never saw anything of worth. Maybe initially, but when they learned the truth about me, about who I am... or rather, who I'm not... then I was simply discarded, thrown to the side. Pushed away so that he could take any place of respect I may have had in their eyes.

How can I blame them for it? I wonder what I would have done, if I was one of them, and it would have been the same. I'm just like them, all the same. It's human nature to be drawn to the better one, after all. To be attracted to the one that has a better chance at survival. Who wants to befriend someone that is quite simply inferior? What is the point of associating with someone that is weak, prone to death? Someone that has reeked of death since they first knew life? As I said, I'm dead. I'm dead. This isn't death, right now, laying here and feeling my heart stop. It's just the transportation to yet another place where I will no doubt be shunned. If I go anywhere at all. Maybe I'll be greeted by blank space. 

Darkness. Darkness doesn't mock you, does it? No, darkness always stays the same. Just an empty space, with no depth, full of black. Or the absence of light, if you will. Darkness hides you away from all of those people that want to tear your soul into pieces. No point in hiding anymore, though, is there? My soul was stripped from me the first time my father told me I was useless, a failure in comparison to my beautiful brother. My amazing brother. My unerring brother. My perfect brother.

It should be over by now, but this worthless body of mine seems to want to stretch this out for as long as possible. Kind of a hindrance, really. I'd rather it was just short and sweet at this point. Although maybe the Fates believe that in order to earn my due punishment, I should suffer before I die. I'm hardly suffering that much, however. My eyes are opening, I'm staring up at the sky, and I know that there is pain present, that my chest is aching and working in an inexorable effort to keep my heart beating. I suppose that's what it's made for, though. Your body, it's designed to do all it can to keep you alive. For once, however, it isn't going to work. This is it. He knows it, I know it. We all know it. Finally, Snake, you have won. How does it feel? Wonderful? Or empty? 

I'm sure he's gone by now, gone to celebrate. Actually, probably not. He never seemed that eager to see me dead. Maybe he was intrigued by me, by the fact that there was someone else so similar to him. I'm sure he was rather disappointed when he met me face to face. After all, I'm not what I chalked up to be, am I? He probably expected a lot more out of someone that is his supposed equal. Though I suppose I did give him a hell of a fight. How many times did he have to fight me? Four, five? And it wasn't even him that spelled out my loss of life in the end. FoxDie gets that honor.

Still, it doesn't defeat the fact that in the end, I am the one in the snow, by myself during my final moments. Who could I expect to be here for me? I wasn't really waiting for someone to come here, to cry as I died, to beg me not to, to tell me to 'wake up' as it always is in those movies, but... alone? It's what I get, isn't it? What I did was wrong, wasn't it? No, I don't deserve to be so greedy, to want to kill him and take the rest of the world with me while I'm at it. A monster such as myself should never have had such freedom, such power. We were made to kill, to fight, and weapons should never be allowed to think for themselves, should they? Yes, that's what they want us to believe. And Snake was a perfect example of following these orders, carrying out their tasks just like they wanted him to, running about at their very beck and call, never truly questioning what was going on. Even I was able to manipulate him, although he did get the last laugh in the end. When it comes to me, that is.

I have to wonder now, was I really looking to kill him... or just to see if all they said was true? It was, of course. He was unnatural, the way he fought, his complete disregard for what he was doing as he shed so much blood. All of my comrades sent to Hell at his hand, save for Ocelot. And countless others, I'm sure. And he hardly seems to care. As I told him, he probably even _enjoys_ it. But he's supposed to. That's what he was made for. To be a fierce soldier that kills with no mercy, cares not that the people he's wiping the floor with had lives just as he does, families and people that care for them. 

Not that I ever cared, either. These people, all of them... they all deserve death. With their meaningless lives, these fake dramas they live out day by day, moving on through life by never really accomplishing anything important. We're a wasteful species. We live to destroy, no matter how people will deny that humans are sympathetic creatures. We still have that built-in need to survive, a need so strong that we will decimate anyone that threatens that need. Despicable, though I've bought into it just like everyone else. It can't be resisted. It's written into the genetic patterns that define us. And though people believe you can deny what made you, _created_ you, it's not possible.

And how can a species that sees it appropriate to put down its fellow man be serene and good? No, we're monsters. Not just us experiments, every single human that thinks they're good enough to suck up the Earth's oxygen when none of us are. We're all just tearing the planet apart, smearing the world and ruining it, damning the generations that will come after us, condemning our offspring, writing their wills before we realize our own. Pathetic.

Yes, now that I have the time to really think about it, my mind cleared oddly in this close-to-death experience, it seems like I was merely running head on into a quick damnation, suicide at the hands of my brother. I never truly thought I could beat him; how would it ever be possible, if he was exponentially better than me in every aspect, I merely his leftovers? There were times when victory seemed so near, close enough that I could taste it, sweet in my mouth, but it was never really there. Only an imitation of it, a good enough mimic that it managed to fool me for a few seconds here and there, I was tricked into thinking that I actually might triumph when I was destined to die, had come here to die. 

Even if I had won, by some chance of luck, a blunder by the Gods, it would not have been what I was searching for. There would be those initial moments of fulfillment, and maybe it would even last for a bit, me drowning in the giddy feeling that for once I had actually succeeded at something, but that would fade away eventually, and then there would be nothing. The object of my very life, the one person I _had_ to meet, confront for myself, test with my own deft hands, would be gone, and I would have no reason to go on, no other purpose. I had stupidly attached myself to him in such a manner that if he dies, I, in a sense, wither away as well. What I said was that I wouldn't die as long as he still lived. What I really meant was that I would die the minute he no longer lived.

Everything seems to make so much more sense now.

It's getting worse. Some of the pain is beginning to set in now, but my body seems to be shutting down. My breathing is soft and gentle, my chest not even moving with the small intakes. My eyes at some point decided to close, though I don't feel there's much need to make any effort to open them again. Nothing to see but a cloudy sky, and darkness is much nicer. It's attacking me, attacking my heart, and it _hurts_. I've always had a surprisingly good tolerance for pain, as I'm sure Snake does as well, but this... this _hurts_. It's Fate giving me yet another kick in the ass. How many is that now? I've lost count. 

I don't think I can move much anymore. I feebly make an attempt to drag my fingers through the snow which doesn't even feel cold anymore, most other sensations blocked out by this pain, but it doesn't respond to the order, lays there limply and lifelessly. Maybe I've died and I didn't realize it. Maybe this is one of those out of body experiences, and I should be watching from somewhere else, but my soul refuses to remove itself from my self. Oh, wait. I don't have a soul, do I? Father killed it, yes. That's right. Maybe...

Someone's there. Someone or something. Somehow I can still tell, still have that semi-alert sixth sense that lets me know when danger is nearby. It's hardly going to do me any good now, seeing as I can't move and all. I consider opening my eyes, but I figure there's not much of a point. No matter who or what it is, nor what it plans to do with me, I'll have to accept it either way. I don't feel like making the effort to will my eyes to open. Just leave me in peace, for once. Leave me be... this one last time. All of you. I don't want to be bothered any more. 

It's touching me, it's grabbing me, it's... holding me? Everything is a bit distorted now, not all of it processes, but it seems that now I'm laying on something warm rather than the wet snow. Something... human. But who? Who could be here, who could find it suitable to come and mourn over a man that never did anything good for the world? My mind rakes through a list of people, quickly checking people off through process of elimination, but I can't seem to put any pieces of such a deranged puzzle together. No one fits the description, to do such a thing, something like this.

They're... running a finger over my chest. My injured chest, and it should add to the pain, but somehow, it makes it a little more bearable. It's as if this person, whoever it may be, has a slightly healing touch, that just their contact with my dying form gives my body a little more of a drive to... live. People have done this before, have caressed my skin in a similar manner, during the many sexual encounters I've managed to stumble into during this sad existence, but... it never amounted to feeling like anything close to how this does. Why? Why is this so different? Is it because I'm so close to death?

My arm, they're grabbing my arm? Oh... my tattoo is on that arm. That's something I've always been proud of. I got it when I was eighteen, sat down and watched ever pinprick of the needle as the ink was marked onto my skin, left there to last until the day I died. I doubt that back then I had thought it would be so soon. Heh. Temptation revelation. A snake and a sword. How very witty of me.

Things blur for a while, I feel the thump-thump of my heart weaken by just a fraction, and then a bare hand being run through my hair places me back in this half-reality. One foot in Hell, the other still on Earth, and I can't seem to decide which way to go. His hand--when did 'they' become a 'he'?--through my hair, it makes me... warm. That doesn't make sense. We're in the middle of an island in Alaska, there's snow all over the place, I have no shirt on... I should be freezing by now, damn near close to frostbite. And yet I feel _warm_. This unknown person, this stranger of a hand, this enigma, he's making me feel better than I ever have before. And I don't know why. Everything seems so much nicer when you're about to die.

Finally, I need to know. It eventually occurs to me that I can open my eyes rather than keeping this a mystery, and so I steel myself, prepare, and then put all of the energy I have left into opening my eyes. They comply rather quickly, surprisingly enough, though they only open halfway, but all I need is a second to see who it is, who this person is that has come to see me off. 

I must be seeing things. I must be going insane. Who I see, or rather, what my eyes are telling me, is that the man who is doing this, coming here and giving me these wonderfully comfortable feelings... is my brother. He should be long gone by now, he should be chuckling at his latest triumph, not here, not now... not with me. Why would he come here, what reason would there be? It's a completely ridiculous concept, my mind's playing tricks on me. Forcefully, I close my eyes and then open them again, expecting my vision to clear, but it's still the same thing. One more try, and still no change.

He came here, he came here, he _stayed_ here... to say good-bye. To a brother he never knew. To a brother that forced him to kill him. I hate myself sometimes. Wait, no. All the time. Everything everyone said is true. So true. He's so much better than I am, and now, I can really say that I agree with them. I kept telling everyone that they were wrong, that I could be just as good as we was, even better, but now I realize that I was just trying to avoid it all so that I could stay sane. It appears that hasn't worked out like I wanted to. I'll die young and crazy. 

Oh well.

His hand lingers upon my chest again, and I faintly wonder why. It seems so uncharacteristic for him, so out of place. He loved that Meryl girl, didn't he? Yes, and I killed her. Her... and his best friend as well. Fox. I took everything from him, just as he took everything from me, and yet... here he is. There are arms around me, arms around me--he's hugging me. Why? Why? I don't understand. I can't complain, it feels blissfully comforting, but... I'm just confused. It doesn't fit in with all that's happened, he's opposing the general order of things. Though I suppose he did like to do that, didn't he? He's hugging me, and it seems so loving--no one has ever held me like this. It's as if he really gives a damn. I almost want to return the embrace, but I can't... I can't. 

Instead, I open my eyes again, and I make myself think. They escape my purple lips before I can even organize them in my head. "You're nobler than I thought." I watch him carefully, search hopelessly for his reaction, and I notice that he seems to be in a state of disbelief. He thought... I was already dead. I'm not sure how I know this, but I do. Maybe that rumor that twins have a sort of psychic bond when it comes to certain things is true. It doesn't matter, I just know. And I have to show him that I'm still real. Gritting my teeth, I first ball my hand into a fist, and when I see that I'm able to do that, able to move that much, I tell myself, convince myself, that I can do this as well. That I can reach up, slowly and carefully, but reach up nevertheless, and... touch him. I smile. He feels good. 

Obviously, however, my body wasn't very pleased with the fact that I was denying that state of paralysis I was supposed to be in, and a cough bubbles up from my lungs, causing blood to splatter everywhere. I wince at how messy it is, but Snake cleans it up for me. How considerate of him. Strange; I don't know if I meant that sarcastically or sincerely. I stare at him expectantly; now that he knows I'm alive, he has to tell me exactly why he's doing this, since it still doesn't make sense, no matter now hard I think about it. 

It takes him a while, but he speaks. "...I figured I could tie up loose ends, now that I had the chance. I didn't expect you to talk back, though." And then he laughs. I blink... I don't think I'd ever heard him laugh before, and it sounds nice, filling. He has the type of laugh that makes you want to smile when you hear it, or laugh along with him. I would if I had the strength. Talking is hard enough, but I'm willing to make that sacrifice, cut down the time I have left to have this last talk with him. I didn't want to spend ages laying here waiting to die, anyways. This'll shorten it quite a bit, and I'll possibly get something out of it. I already am; everything feels so good. Even with the pain, I almost feel... happy. Nostalgic? I can't think of the right word to describe it.

"And I thought I was going to be left here to die on my own..." I'm surprised that I can keep my sentences so clear, not having to take pauses yet to work through the pain. It hurts, but not enough yet that it's cutting me off. That will come soon enough, and I'll have to stop to breathe, but not yet. For now I can keep up this wall that I'm still okay, still strong enough, even though I'm not and we both know it. Just playing out the part for the hell of it. Why not?

"You probably would have been better off that way, but I figure that this might make me feel a little better about myself later. I can say I bonded with my older brother right before he died. I won't even have to mention the fact that we were hell-bent on killing each other." The way he says this, the smile he gives, it's rather endearing, and I want to be closer, I want to feel him. I want to make sure that both of us are human, that both of us are really... real. We aren't monsters, we aren't monsters. We aren't dirty little secrets. We're people. We can smile, we can hurt. We're not just weapons, we can think. We can feel. Not machines, people. Men. Two men; brothers. We're brothers, brothers. I wish I could have known you before. I wish I could have _known_ you. I needed you, back then. 

My vision is getting worse, I can't see him so well anymore. "You can act like we were the best of friends…" I say softly, preserving what's left of my voice. It's what I wish we could have been, if only things had been different. They tore us apart for their research, their own selfish needs and wants; we were tools for them to dote upon, pets for them to examine. They didn't think we had hearts just as they did, that we also needed people to speak to, people to... love. And to love us.

"I'm no better than you." I don't know what he's talking about, my mind is starting to fade. I grunt, but it's hardly audible, it's more to make myself snap back into a state of clarity. I can't lose it now; not yet. The words he spoke process a bit slowly, and I frown lightly. I'm not quite sure why he said it, if he feels I need to hear it, but I don't. I've come to terms with the fact that he is the best, hands down. 

I shake my head, but it's a weak attempt, and all it does is cause it to ache a bit. "Don't say that just to make me feel better. You are better. Anyone would say so. Look at who's the one that's dying in the end." It's true, it's true, and he can't deny it. He can try, but I know better than him. I was told all my life, I know. I know very well. But he goes on, makes the argument, and I want to laugh at him. Genes don't matter anymore. Even if he was recessive and I were dominant... he would be better. I know it, and he doesn't understand. He can't understand, and I can't explain it to him. Not with the time I have now. 

My mind, it's moving away, and I make feeble grabs at it, chase after it, but I'm losing it. Words come out of my mouth, and I don't even know what I'm saying anymore. Gibberish, perhaps. Or things I don't want to say. I run, I chase, I fall. I can't catch it. He's shaking me, and I'm a little scared myself; I'm pretty sure he's yelling--is he angry? I don't want him to be mad at me. I don't want him to hate me anymore. I don't... want to hate him anymore. I'm done with all that. Can't I just die feeling sated, feeling at ease? Please. Someone. He keeps talking, I keep talking, and yet the words don't really get through to me. I've fallen over, I'm on the floor, and I'm scared. I finally have seen it as I should have seen it all my life, and now I have to die. Do I want to die? I don't know anymore. I'm... scared. The pain is still there, festering, and eventually it's going to consume me. Will I be ready? Where will I go? I'm scared, I'm scared.

Finally, I get it out. I can't explain it properly, but I make it known to him: "I envy you, Snake… You didn't need genes to be a better person. Even if you were the… inferior one, you still would have beaten me." My eyes start to shut, but he shakes me, and I keep them open, if only for his sake. He gives me some more words of assurance, but they mean nothing. I know he's trying to be sincere, but it makes no difference now. It's fine, Snake. I don't need it. I just need you here right now, that's all. Just stay here, stay with me until the end, and... I'll be okay. I think I'll be okay.  

"...So close..." I mumble, and I'm not sure what I mean. So close to him, so close to dying, so close to having killed him? I'm not making sense now, either. I remember my hand is still at his face, there's blood flowing under my fingers, beneath his warm flesh, and drag the digits across his skin a little. My eyes somehow manage to catch his cheeks flushing, and I have to smile. It's so unlike him, it's so desirable. Cute, even. Oh, my dear little brother... "I never thought I'd see the great Solid Snake blush."

He seems a little perplexed, embarrassed, even, and I want to give him a hug. It's such a strange feeling, but I just want to hug him. "Don't say that. I'm not great. I'm no legend. No one seems to understand that. What kind of legend kills people without caring?" There he goes on again with the killing. I've done the same, doesn't he understand? At this point, we're on the same level in that aspect. Everything bad that he's done, I've done ten times worse. But he's still better. He is. 

"But you're here, aren't you?" I ask softly; my tone seems so changed from the maliciousness it almost always possessed before. I think I like myself better this way. Too bad I'll be gone soon, hm? 

"That's just because--" The same old meaningless protests. I'm getting sick of it. 

"Don't lie." There, that'll shut him up a little. Yes, it does. He seems taken aback, he gives me a strange look, but I like it. But I'm losing it, more and more, things are slipping away. As if my body realizes this, it listens, my arm appropriately 'slipping' off of his face and falling into the cushioned snow again. I didn't mean anything by this action; in fact, I was forced to perform it, and yet somehow, he seems very affected by this. He tries to cover it up, but I know him too well. Unlike him, who has only known me for this one day, I've known him my entire life. "I feel honored. Snake shows his soft side for me...?"

He doesn't answer, but I don't mind. Suddenly, he seems so much... more like me. We seem equal, and I know that a large part of me is telling me that no, he's better, but Snake has been saying he isn't, and... 

I purse my lips. What is it, then? Does it even matter? Why is it so important, who is better than who? Why must everything become some petty competition, pitting two people against each other for some sort of sick enjoyment? This is how the human race has a field day. I feel sick. "Maybe..." It's hurting, it's hurting. I want to curl up, get away from the pain, hide inside of myself, but I can't... move. Please, I just want to go. I just want the pain to go away. "…maybe neither of us is as great or as bad as everyone's told us." I'm still talking. I don't know how, but I am. It seems to be the only part of me that's still functioning, as if that's all I still need to do before I leave. Talk with him here; now. Settle things. 

My eyes are still open, but I can hardly see anything anymore. I'm just keeping them open for him. I don't want to scare him. He's talking, and I do my best to listen. "Maybe we should stop listening to what everyone tells us we are. If anything, we're equal, okay?" He's touching me, I think. I shiver, but I'm not cold. "Don't worry about genes. Or fate. Or any of that."

"It didn't get me very far… did it…?" I question. I cough again, even though I don't want to, and I ignore the blood gathering in my mouth. Soon I won't be able to speak, but I have to. I have to finish. Just a little more time...

I force my way through the pain, to get the last important things said, get them out in the air, and then I'll leave. I promise I will, I can't stay here anymore. I'm scared, I'm not sure I want to go, but I have to. It's the only way, right? Yes, I'll go. Just let me say this, let me make this final request, and I'll go. 

"If we're equal, then… Snake…" I look at him, wonder if I can still see him. Sort of, he's there... an outline, bits of color, but hardly anything with a form. I know he's there, though, and that's all I need to know. Just to know he's there, he's with me, close-by, finally... that's enough. "…live to be better than I ever was. And if they ever ask about your brother…" My eyes close even though I didn't tell them to, but I don't try and open them again. They won't listen, even if I try, and there's no point. I can't see him now, anyways, and he knows it's near, he can't deny that now. "…tell them the truth."

Almost there, almost there. Just one more thing. I begin to speak, but then I feel his arms around me, _really_ around me, in an actual hug, and he means it, he's doing it because he wants to, because he chose to. I have to give it back, let me give it back. That's all I ask. Clenching my teeth, I take in a deep breath at the pain that comes with my arms lifting up and enveloping my brother. It feels so right. God, I needed you so bad. Why weren't you there for me? I needed you. 

I needed you, brother. One more thing, then I'll go. I promise. I even say it out loud, in case they can't hear me. "One more thing..." It wants me now, it wants me to go _now_, but I rebel, get out that last bit. "Call... me..." No more. That's all they'll allow me, but I have faith that he understands. Hurry, Snake, before I can't hear you anymore. 

First a little more strength is put into that hug, which helps with the pain, which is clogging my thoughts. Then he says it. He _says_ it. "Sleep well... brother."

I want to cry and smile and laugh all at the same time. I can't do any of those things, though. I'm just... happy. Scared, perhaps, but happy. At least, I think this is 'happy'. I can't be all too sure, but it feels wonderful.

He has to help me, I can't take it any longer. I nod, to say good-bye, and I hear him shifting through the snow, know he realizes what I want from him. This is the end.

... And I think I might just love you, bro--

_Bang._


End file.
